


The World Ends And We Dance On

by Zayrastriel



Category: 1984 - George Orwell
Genre: F/M, Fluff, dance, massively OOC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-29
Updated: 2012-06-29
Packaged: 2017-11-08 19:37:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/446762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zayrastriel/pseuds/Zayrastriel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Julia teaches Winston the forbidden art of dance.<br/>(Massively OOC because I wrote this for a friend and I actually don't remember this book at all sorry =/)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The World Ends And We Dance On

“Dance?” Winston repeated after her, the word rolling awkwardly off his tongue like it belonged to an alien language.

“Dance.”

She shivered at the soft sound of the word, whispering like the soft breeze as the wind ruffled through her hair lightly.  Before she could lose her nerve, Julia stepped forwards to Winston, looking up at him and resting her hands on his shoulders.  “It’s something from _before_ ,” she murmured, smiling as knowledgeably as she could and not letting the _I read about it in a book and I don’t understand but I want to try because_ before _must have been better and anything is something_ slip past her head.

It had taken her long, painstaking hours of deciphering the writing, the unfamiliar language, and translating it into an image in her head of where arms and legs were meant to go.  Even as Julia grasped one of Winston’s hands gently – he flinched, and without thinking she made a soothing noise – and guided it to her waist (skin tingling under her shirt at the touch) she had no idea what she was doing.

A wave of panic struck her – maybe this was banned for a reason, maybe it was _wrong_ – but she fought down the feeling with a bite of her lip, teeth pressing down till she tasted the metallic tang of blood on her tongue.  “Alright,” she said uncertainly as she felt Winston’s hand tremble where it lay on her waist, tentative and light.  She could feel her own hand shaking, held too-tightly by his.

“And now?”

All of a sudden, it didn’t feel as though the question was about the ‘dance’; it was, but what Julia knew he meant was what was going to happen after.  What this meant, what they were doing, breaking another rule in such a trivial way; that’s what he was asking.

 _Trivial_ – she added that herself, because she couldn’t understand what purpose this ritual could serve.

In a rush of recklessness, though, she didn’t care.

She stepped back with her right foot.  “Step forwards,” Julia instructed, as confident as she could be.

 

~~~~~

 

Their movement was awkward and graceless, and while Winston did the majority of the wrong-stepping and the apologising, Julia found herself stepping on his foot more often than she would have liked.

Eventually, they fell into some sort of rhythm, some sort of repetitive beat that somehow didn’t feel draining and empty the way her life felt, every single day. 

It was _nice_.

But…

“ _Music_!” Julia exclaimed as she finally remembered what she’d been missing, voice loud in the peaceful silence that they’d fallen into.  Winston, startled, stumbled backwards and trips, pulling her down with him.

The fall drove the breath from her body, and for a moment she was too dazed to move off of Winston.  When she realised that she was practically draped over him, though, Julia rolled to the side quickly, sitting up and turning her face away to hide her embarrassment.

“Music,” she said again, “I forgot.  We were meant to dance to… _music_.”

A warm hand landed on her shoulder, and before she could stop herself, she turned towards Winston.

“It was wonderful,” he told her firmly, voice quiet and sincere.

And then he…he _smiled_.

A _smile_.  Julia had always known what a smile meant.  But this was the first time she had really _seen_ one.

It was beautiful.

Without thinking about it, she curved up her lips in imitation; not in the controlled, perfect, toothless way of work and _now_ , but what Julia wanted to believe was the way it _used-to-be_.

Winston’s eyes widened and he leaned forwards, kneeling over her.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered as though it was a word he had never before used, and Julia didn’t understand what it meant to press her lips to those of another, but she didn’t care.

And when he pushed her down to the grass, she wasn’t scared.


End file.
